


Doing Something Sweet

by orphan_account



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [27]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone!</p><p>I'm so sorry that this has been such a long wait! Life stuff got in the way, but I made this extra long to make it up to you!<br/>The last day should be coming soon, but I don't want to make any promises. Thanks for hanging in there with me!<br/>And, as always, if you have any prompts of ideas, you know where to find me!</p><p>-Bubbletrix</p></blockquote>





	Doing Something Sweet

James Bond, 007, didn’t have emotions. He didn’t have ‘feelings’. And he most certainly wasn’t in love with the Quartermaster.

Except he was.

Alec figured it out before even Bond did, but after the dreadful realisation hit, Bond retreated into himself. The first few times Alec had come home to their shared house and he’d found Bond drowning himself in his vodka supply, he’d tried to talk about it. But Bond would leave muttering darkly about ‘Vesper’ and ‘I’ll hurt him’ and ‘he doesn’t like me anyway’. It was the only time Alec had seen his best friend give up on something before he even tried. Six months down the line and even Alec was at his limit. He stormed into the apartment, smelt the alcohol and swept into the kitchen like a hurricane.

“What happened?”

“He’s pissed at me because I lost the gun.”

Alec raised an eyebrow.

“Again.”

Alec sighed.

“Bloody hell, James. You seriously need to grow a pair and do something.”

Bond looked at the glass in his hand.

“Enlighten me, Alec. What should I do?”

Alec ignored the murderous tone and pushed ahead.

“Take him out to dinner, to a show, or buy him flowers and chocolates. You can write him a love poem for all I care, but you’re wrecking yourself over this and I don’t see why you won’t just act on it. And don’t start on about Vesper,” he said when Bond opened his mouth. “I think you’re insulting both you and Q by even comparing them.”

Bond frowned. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

“He’s not fragile, James. He’s not a civilian who doesn’t understand. You want someone who knows exactly what we do and who’ll take care of you anyway? Q’s the only one, mate. Give him a chance.”

“What if he doesn’t want me?”

“He’s a genius. Of course he bloody wants you.”

“Alec, I’m blushing.”

Alec punched him. Hard. Bond rolled out of the chair and settled into a defensive crouch, ready to leap at Alec when his phone rang. Alec picked it up off the counter and grinned before answering.

“Q, darling, how are you?”

Bond jumped up and tried to grab the phone, but Alec danced out of his way.

“Do I know where Bond is? Well, how about we trade an answer for an answer, hey Q?”

Bond picked up his glass, drained the rest of it and threw it at Alec’s head. It smashed into the wall next to him.

“No, no, I’m fine. No, we’re not at a bar, we’re at home, James just throws things when he doesn’t get his way, but that’s the worst of his habits, I promise!”

Alec turned to wink at Bond only to see the agent’s face a split second before he was tackled to the ground. Bond landed on top of him and ripped the phone away from him.

“Q?”

“007.” Bond immediately relaxed as the posh tones sounded in his ear. “Do I need to call Medical for 006?”

“What do you take me for?”

“A highly trained killer,” Q shot back.

“Yes, but I’m not on duty. He’s fine.”

“Good. You’re both coming in. A car will arrive for you in ten minutes.”

“I can drive!” Alec huffed, still stuck under Bond’s weight.

“So can I. Q, we don’t need the delivery service.”

Q sighed deeply.

“006, the last time you drove in London I had to spend three hours erasing video footage, and I don’t have the time today. 007, your BAC is currently over the legal limit, and hacking RBT machines is finicky. I take it you forgot your subdermal tracker picks up these things. See you soon, agents.” The phone call ended before Bond could reply.

He looked at Alec.

“If you date him, maybe I’ll become second favourite,” Alec joked.

“Wouldn’t count on it.”

 

*** 

 

I.

 

The mission stranded them in freezing Northern Russia for a fortnight. When they were waiting for their plane to take them back to the England, Bond was actually looking forward to the London rain, simply because it would be twenty degrees warmer than blizzards. Alec passed the time flirting with security officer who was meant to be patrolling the airport, while Bond meandered through the kitschy shops that were littered with gullible tourists wanting memorabilia to combat their frostbite. It was in the last shop window that something caught his eye. It was a small igloo, made entirely of glass that seemed to sparkle in the light. Alec raised an eyebrow at Bond’s wrapped package as they boarded their plane, but didn’t say a word.

Somewhere in the snow lay the remains of the kit Q had given them, and Bond volunteered to face the Quartermaster’s wrath. Alec patted him on the back and left him to it. When Bond walked into Q-branch it was blissfully quiet, possibly because it was four in the morning. The only person there was Q. He was curled up on a couch on the far wall, balancing a laptop on his knees, the screen’s glow flashing across his glasses. Bond cleared his throat.

Q swiftly shut down whatever he was working on and walked over to his main desk.

“007. Glad to see you with all ten fingers. Medical checked you out?”

“Unfortunately Eve got to me before I could sneak past them.”

“Ah, well, she is very good at what she does. I take it you, once again, have managed to lose or destroy all my equipment?”

“Well, it was a rather thick blizzard.”

“You are the bane of my financial hopes, 007.”

“I did bring you something back, though.”

Q eyes him suspiciously as he produced a wrapped bundle from his inside coat pocket.

“That’s not my equipment.”

“No,” said Bond, placing the package on the desk between them. “But I can hardly go all the way to Russia, lose the equipment, and not bring back something in apology. Have a lovely morning, Q.”

Bond almost strutted out. The plan had begun.

 

*** 

 

A week later, James and Alec were playing a ruthless MarioKart drinking game when Alec changed the topic of conversation.

“James, do you know where Q got a trashy igloo souvenir from?”

James almost dropped the controller.

“Did he mention something to you?”

“God no, it’s on his desk. Ha, blue shell! I win! Two shots to you, James! James? What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing, Alec. Absolutely nothing.”

 

*** 

 

The next month James was sent on a mission to Sydney. It was a simple surveillance job, and a welcome change to the London winter. Australia in summer was beautiful as long as you had access to air conditioning, and Sydney was filled with busy people. Unfortunately, Bond’s radio dropped out of his pocket and into Darling Harbour, and his gun managed to find its way under a car when Bond was finding a better position. Needless to say, the Quartermaster was unimpressed. Bond dutifully kept the earpiece in through the rant.

“I hope you think of all the possibilities for my budget if it wasn’t wasted on replacing reckless agent’s equipment. This wasn’t even a fight 007! You dropped it! Next time, I’m just going to give something that you can strap on- ah, shit! Ow!” A crash sounded on the other end of the line.

“Q?” Bond was on alert, even half a world away. “Q, are you OK?”

“Sorry, 007. I’m fine, anyway-”

“No, Q, what’s happened? Are you hurt?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“007, I’m not hurt. I just picked something up the wrong way, it’s fine.”

“Why did it hurt then?”

Q snorted delicately, and Bond could almost see the amusement in his green eyes.

“Working on computers for the majority of my life has got some nasty disadvantages. Generic RSI, but there’s no need for concern, it doesn’t impact my work. You, however, always losing equipment does.”

Bond let him speak, his mind whirring.

 

*** 

 

L.

 

Bond didn’t have time to listen to Q’s rants in person, as he was assigned another mission almost as soon as he hit home soil. When Q got into work the morning of Bond’s arrival, and of his next departure, he found another wrapped bundle on his desk, with one of his yellow Post-It notes lying on top.

 

Q,

I’m sure you’ve heard of it, but this is a laptop stand. It’ll angle the keyboard to reduce the strain on your hands. Sorry about the equipment, maybe next time.

-Bond

 

Q all but tore the paper off, laying his laptop gently on top of the cushioned stand. Hesitantly he began to type, waiting for the tell-tale pains from his wrists. He worked all day, waiting for Bond to arrive in Madrid, and they never hurt once.

 

*** 

 

Assassination missions. The closest the movies ever got, Bond thought as he stalked down a dark alley. He was going after a politician-turned-criminal, a Mr Davis, who got tied up with one too many terrorist groups. Even though the man was from South America, he travelled nonstop, and the fact that Q-branch found him so close to home was pure luck. Bond waited round a corner, his Walther already in his hand. Davis stepped out of his hotel, his one bodyguard walking behind him. Bond waited for the clearest shot and fired. Davis whirled, the shot going just wide of its mark and hitting him in the shoulder. Bond swore as the bodyguard looked straight at him and raised his own gun.

Ten bloody minutes later, the bodies of Davis and the bodyguard were hauled into the alley and Bond’s Walther was lying on the pavement, with the barrel snapped off.

Well, he thought. That’s unfortunate.

But there is really no way to tell where an attacker is going to plant their foot. Bond went through Davis’s pockets, finding his wallet and phone. The wallet had his cards in, and an impressive amount of money, but Bond’s eyes were drawn to two tickets tucked into the left hand side. He smiled. This was almost too convenient.

 

*** 

 

O. 

 

“Q.”

Q turned around.

“Equipment-less 007.”

“Nice to see you, too. What are you doing tonight?”

Q looked taken aback.

“Probably building you a new, more resilient gun, why?”

“Take the night off. I’ve got two tickets to the opera, in Albert Hall.”

Bond thought Q looked adorable when he was confused.

“It’s La Traviata,” he added.

Q looked at R, who nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ll get my coat.”

Bond felt on top of the world.

 

*** 

 

V.

 

Three hours after Bond got back from Italy, Q found a beautiful Venetian mask on his desk, so intricately designed he was still staring at it when Eve came into his office. Her eyes swept from the igloo, and the laptop stand, to the mask Q held in his hands.

“Apparently you went to the opera last night,” she said, hands on her hips. Q looked up, and his hands twitched, as if he was going to put the mask behind his back.

“Yes, I did. How do you know?”

“006 mentioned it, because apparently you went with Bond.”

“I did. Why do I feel like this is an interrogation?”

Eve picked up the glass igloo, turning it in her hands.

“He just seems to be paying you some more attention than usual, is all.”

Q smirked.

“I think I finally got through to him about how frustrating it is about the equipment losses. He’s trying to make it up to me.”

Eve stared at him.

“That’s all that’s going on?”

“Of course. What else would there be?”

“You’re being serious?”

“Eve, what are you getting at?”

She jumped off the desk, already reaching for her phone.

“Nothing, but you must be terrifying when you talk about your budget woes to inspire that kind of devotion. Have a good day, Q!”

She hit ‘send’ on the text the moment she was out of Q-branch.

James, it’s Eve. What are you doing with Q, and how can I help?

 

***

 

James didn’t have access to air conditioning in Mumbai and the humidity was making him melt slowly. He dragged air in through what seemed like a wet sponge as he jogged through the city, following the asset’s car. A few more hours and he’d be on a flight back to the Northern Hemisphere where you could at least trust that it was going to be cold and wet, rather than hot and wet. He weaved his way through the homemade stores until his mobile pinged. The message was from Q.

Asset safe. Continue to airport. Flight details attached. – Q

Bond smiled and rubbed his forehead, when someone caught his arm and pulled him round. He tensed, expecting a knife or a gun or a fist, but was only met with a determined woman pressing something into his face, ordering him to buy it. He tried to shrug her off until he actually saw her wares.

“How much?”

 

*** 

 

E.

 

Eve walked in without knocking.

“Quartermaster.”

Q opened his mouth before closing it again.

“You know, I don’t actually know your official position.”

She winked at him.

“That’s the point.”

“What can I do for you, Eve? 007 should have checked in five minutes ago.”

“I’m here on his behalf, he’s in Medical.”

Q was at the door in less than a second.

“What?! Is he OK? What happened? His mission was fine!”

Eve grabbed Q’s arm to stop him running out the door.

“Q, relax. He’s OK, he just got dehydrated. He’ll be out by this evening.”

Q didn’t even blink.

“Do you know you can die by dehydration, Eve?! How bad is it? Is he unconscious?”

Eve grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Q. Q! Sit down before you pass out. He’s awake and OK and harassing the nurses, and I’m pretty sure he’s already tried to escape. Honestly, he’s worried about you.”

That stopped him.

“About me? Why?”

“Well, his equipment didn’t make it back, and he had something to give you. He was worried that you wouldn’t be here when he gets released, so he sent me as a messenger.”

Eve dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny figurine that seemed to shine. She pressed it gently into Q’s palm.

It was an elephant, brilliantly carved out of…

“It’s pure opal, Q.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“So, is this still him making up for not bringing back the equipment?”

Q looked at the elephant, refusing to meet Eve’s gaze.

“Of course, Eve. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Eve rolled her eyes and walked out of Q-branch, nodding to R on her way.

Q placed his new present next to the igloo on his desk, allowing a small smile to cross his face before he pulled up the cameras to Medical, and their reports on Bond’s health.

 

***

 

Canada wasn’t as cold as Russia had been six months ago, but Bond would almost have welcomed another blizzard merely for something to do. Someone thought it was a good idea to set up a drug ring on the Canadian border. Which is possibly the stupidest decision he’d ever come across, because it’s Canada. They notice something illegal going on because it stands out like a sore thumb. Everyone was nice and pleasant and helpful and Bond couldn’t remember being more bored. The only interesting thing was that Q had given him a motorbike. It was an old Yamaha that had been done up for snowy climates and Bond wasted his time roaring over the white mounds and frightening skiers. 

Eventually, after a week of waiting, he flushed the leader of the ring and handed him over to the agents at Station C, trying not to shake his head at there being only three of them. He didn’t even have a scratch. Nonetheless, he smiled as he got back on British soil, because the bike was untouched also.

 

*** 

 

Y.

 

Q stared at it.

And he kept staring.

Bond’s grin faded after a while, and he started counting the seconds.

Five minutes later, Q moved, but only to stare at Bond.

“You…”

Bond waited.

“You…”

Bond started thinking that maybe Q needed to sit down.

“You…”

He stepped forward and the movement seemed to restore Q’s speech.

“You bought back equipment.”

“To be fair, I was in the most peaceful country on the Earth.”

“But it’s a whole motorbike! And you bought it back!”

Q rushed over to it and ran his hands lovingly across the engine. Bond’s mouth went dry.

“It doesn’t even have scratches, much less dents or burn marks!”

Q looked at him, his face lit up in pure joy.

“God, James, I could kiss you!”

He smiled.

“Maybe I should bring equipment back more often, then.”

Q’s eyes widened and the happiness bled out of his face as he realised what he’d said.

“I didn’t mean- I was just- It’s just a figure of speech.”

“You called me James.”

“No I didn’t.

Bond started to laugh.

“I have to get back to work. Thank you for finally returning your equipment intact, 007.”

Q almost ran out of the room and Bond’s heart sang.

 

*** 

 

Bond’s next mission was in England. M seemed tense when Bond left his office, and this time it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t often that MI5 asked for help on their own territory.

Bond worked with their agents well enough, breaking into the house and taking down the residents. There were five in total, and only four were meant to be there. Turns out one of the targets had a son, who got caught in the cross-fire. Bond knelt with him as the Medical team rushed towards the house, but he knew they’d be too late. The boy was crying, already feeling too numb to be distracted by the pain. Bond stared out the window at the moon, which lit up the messy room. Even the earpiece had gone quiet, Q knowing Bond wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say. Bond felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down. The boy was mouthing something, making Bond lean in closer.

“Look after him, after Mickey, please.”

“Who’s Mickey?” Bond asked, but the boy didn’t answer.

Bond sighed and stood up, throwing the earpiece out the window. Apparently the mission wasn’t over yet.

He traipsed through the house, calling out quietly for Mickey, listening for any sound. At the far end he entered a room that was obviously the boy’s. Bond turned on the light, and a large tank in the corner caught his attention. It was half filled with water, and a pile of gravel and rocks formed a small dry area. Moving closer, Bond saw a nameplate drawn in crayon. “Mickey – The Idiot.” Bond leant over the top of the tank and saw a small tortoise asleep under a heat lamp. He sighed again as he reached in and picked it up. It immediately drew its head and feet into the shell.

“Mickey,” he said, before turning around and heading home.

 

*** 

 

O.

A week later there had been no contact from 007, and Q was getting worried. He knew he was at his apartment with 006, but both of them had gone out several times, but not approached HQ. Q looked away from the trackers and started losing himself in some new blueprints instead. Bond would come in when he was ready.

A few hours later a crash and a torrent of swearing made him look up. He was greeted by the view of Bond backing through the door, holding something large, with Trevelyan on the other end.

“Just in the corner, I think, Alec,” Bond puffed, angling himself so Alec wouldn’t get squished in the doorway.

“Right you are, James.”

“What are you doing?!”

“Just a second, Q!”

Q watched in disbelief as the two agents deposited a large, new tank into the corner of his office, only empty because the filing cabinets stored there were overflowing and had been moved down to the Archives. It was also directly below the Venetian mask Q had hung on the wall. Q shook his head. That wasn’t the point.

“OK, what is going on?”

Alec grinned at him, while James reached into the tank before turning round and laying a tortoise on Q’s desk on top of the blueprints. It was eating some lettuce.

“Q, meet Mickey, the Idiot.”

Q looked at Bond sharply.

“This is Mickey?”

“Yes. He’s now your Official Office Pet.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t really eat much, and we’ve set up the tank already. He’s pretty hard to lose track of, since he moves slower than Alec before his first coffee.”

“Hey!”

“But I can’t keep him,” Bond continued. “I’m out too much. But even when you’re busy, your minions can keep a feeding schedule or something.”

Q poked Mickey. Mickey continued eating.

“You’re giving me a tortoise.”

“No, I’m giving you an Office Pet.”

“Office Pet,” Alec repeated, unnecessarily stressing the first word.

“Bond, I-”

But Q looked away from Mickey just in time to see Bond’s face fall. He reminded himself that not only had Bond had a rough mission he wasn’t even meant to have been on, but he was willingly back at HQ sober. Q smiled.

“You know, I’ve never actually had a pet before.”

“Office. Pet.” Alec said. “But you’re kidding! Not even a fish?”

“No, I just never got around to it. He’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

Q flashed Bond another smile, watching the other man smile in return, happy with Q’s acceptance.

“I’ve got to get to M.”

Q nodded and stepped out of the way so they could leave.

“Bond?”

James turned around.

“Yes?”

“I’ll… I’ll be here. All day, I mean. If, if you wanted to debrief M’s debrief.”

James smiled again.

“Thanks, Q. Mickey’s smudging your paper.”

 

*** 

 

“007, go left.”

Bond pushed himself harder, running away from the gunshots that echoed around him.

“Q, they’re getting closer.”

“I’m working on it, next right in fifteen metres.”

Bond caught himself on the wall, whipping around the corner and into the next corridor.

“These guys must love their boss, if they want to avenge him this badly.”

“I dare say firing at you is making their day, 007. Keep going.”

Bond ran, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. They knew their boss was dead, so why were they still following him? They couldn’t have that much loyalty, so… They thought Bond had something. He remembered, too late, the worried look the boss had flashed at his computer, just as Bond’s bullet hit him. But it wasn’t at the computer, it was at the desk.

There was a USB. There had been a USB. James stopped.

“007, what are you doing? Keep going!”

“I need to get back to the office.”

“No! Stop! You’re going the wrong way!”

Bond ignored him and made his way back through the maze of tunnels, trying to avoid his pursuers whilst Q yelled in his ear. Because it was Q that mattered, if that computer had something on it worth killing for, worth dying for, Q needed to have it.

He burst into the office and snatched the USB up, jumping over the body on the floor, before running out again.

“Need an exit plan, Q!”

“Oh, now you listen to me! Turn around, then go right, second left, and down the stairs. I’m locking as many doors as I can. Keep running!”

Bond ran. He ran as hard as he could, knowing that the USB in his hand needed to get to Q, possibly more than the boss had needed to die. He made it to the stairwell and jumped down the stairs, rolling as he hit the platform.

“Down to ground level, Bond. Come on!”

He kept going, pushing his body to the limit, air refusing to enter his lungs, when the firing stopped.

“Q,” he gasped out as he turned down another stairwell.

“Run, James.”

That wasn’t right. Because Q couldn’t sound scared.

“Run!”

Bond made it onto the ground level and had just gotten out the door when the whole building exploded. He leapt for the ground, putting his arms over his head, and saw black.

 

*** 

 

U.

 

Q didn’t care how uncomfortable the chair was. He didn’t care that he hadn’t slept in days, and hadn’t eaten in more. He didn’t care that the nurses looked at him and he didn’t care that R said Mickey missed him.

Bond was lying on the bed in front of him, still as death, the beeps from the heart monitor the only thing confirming that he wasn’t… Because he couldn’t… Not James.

Q stared at him, wishing.

The door opened and two sets of footsteps entered.

Eve took the chair opposite him and Alec leant against the wall.

“He’s going to be fine, Q. You know that.”

The doctors said the same thing. But that didn’t meant James was awake. It didn’t mean that James was smiling.

“It’s a couple of broken ribs, some burns, and a hell of a lot of smoke inhalation. He’s been through worse,” Alec put in. Q’s eyes never strayed from the bed for a second.

“I just don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t understand why he went back.”

Eve and Alec looked at each other.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“It was for the USB, Q. He needed it.”

“But it wasn’t the main objective! He’d already completed the mission!” He finally looked at them. “I’m not saying it wasn’t useful, I’ve been through it and it has information that people have died for. But…” Q inhaled shakily. “He almost died for it, and…”

Alec walked over to him and knelt on the floor.

“Q. How many presents has James given you?”

“Alec-” Eve said, warningly.

“No, I’m fed up with this! And I know you are too, so be quiet unless you’re going to help. How many, Q?”

Q shook his head.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Because of the USB!”

“The USB had nothing to do with that.”

“No, the USB had everything to do with that!”

Alec picked up Bond’s medical records.

“See here,” he said, moving the pen over the paper. Q thought about stopping him, then decided against it. Alec had drawn over less replaceable things, and it wasn’t like Q didn’t know it off by heart.

“What was the first thing?”

“The igloo, from Russia,” Q said, looking back at James, remembering the shock of the first present, and how it glimmered in his computer light. Alec scratched the pen on the page.

“Second?”

“The laptop stand.”

“Third?”

“The opera tickets.”

They went through them all: the Venetian mask, the elephant, the Yamaha bike, Mickey (“Office. Pet.” Alec growled again), and finally, the USB. Alec held the paper in front of his face.

“Look at it Q.”

Q did. It was a list of the gifts written over Bond’s blood test results.

“I don’t understand.”

Alec’s head fell into his hands.

“Eve, just…” He waved vaguely at Q, and went to stand against the wall again. Eve knelt down in his place.

“Q, dear. Bond went to so much effort for all those things, and they were for you. Not for your equipment, or for your branch, just for you. Look at it again, Q. I know you’re tired, but just look.”

Q stared at the list. Nothing they were saying was making sense. The igloo, the laptop stand, the opera tickets, the Venetian mask, the elephant, the… Oh.

Oh.

“Finally,” Alec said, looking at Q’s face. Eve sat back and smiled.

The first letter of each gift, of the presents he’d received for over a year from 007, from Bond, from James. The presents he’d almost died for. It spelt out ‘I love you’. Before Q could say anything, Bond groaned. Q jumped up, the list fluttering to the floor as Bond’s eyes cracked open. Alec and Eve slipped out the door.

“Q?”

Bond’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes?” Q whispered back, his mind spinning.

“Did you get it?”

Q knew he wasn’t asking about the USB. He leant down and kissed Bond’s forehead, his temples, and his cheek.

“Yes.”

Q swallowed.

“James?”

“Q?”

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I'm so sorry that this has been such a long wait! Life stuff got in the way, but I made this extra long to make it up to you!  
> The last day should be coming soon, but I don't want to make any promises. Thanks for hanging in there with me!  
> And, as always, if you have any prompts of ideas, you know where to find me!
> 
> -Bubbletrix


End file.
